For
by Happy Pappy
Summary: A cyborg reflects on his sacrifice and wonders why. OneShort.


For

Rating: PG13

Category: Drama

Disclaimer: I own no part of Ghost in the Shell, characters, or trademarks.

Note: Set in between the two Ghost in the Shell films.

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_A copy is just an identical image. There is the possibility that a single virus could destroy an entire set of systems and copies do not give rise to variety and originality. Life perpetuates itself through diversity and this includes the ability to sacrifice itself when necessary. Cells repeat the process of degeneration and regeneration until one day they die, obliterating an entire set of memory and information, only genes remain. Why continually repeat this cycle? Simply to survive by avoiding the weaknesses of an unchanging system._

_-The Puppet Master_

It looked normal. At least to the human eye it did.

Covered in human flesh filled with the same fluids as the rest of Batou's body, his arm was almost impossible to distinguish from the rest of his body.

However, Batou knew the truth. A artificial copy. Batou himself was nothing more than a piece of manufactured metal and now there was a part of him that was even more fake than the rest. It was a uncomforting thing to know, to say the least.

The fact that the body part was not real wasn't the only thing that caused Batou pain. It stood as a sign. A sign of his foolishness, his blindness. It symbolized the biggest mistake Batou had made in his time existing on this planet.

It reminded him of the day he made the dumbest sacrifice in history.

Blinded by the misplaced care Batou felt for his old friend, he had sacrificed his arm in order to save her from a sniper. What had his 'friend' done in return?

Nothing.

She'd walked out on him. After taking her brain core and hiding it inside his personal safehouse. After spending his hard earned money on a cybernetic body on the black market for her. After sacrificing not just his arm but his career as a Section 9 agent. All his friend had done but walk out to continue living as the shell for another being.

Pathetic.

No thank you. No sign of gratitude. Nothing but mysterious quotes and dodging Batou's questions. That was the majority of what Batou received for his sacrifice.

Batou leaned back in his chair. The room was dark, illuminated only by the dim light from a small lamp in the corner of the room. He sighed as he glanced at the clock at his side. It was a sad habit. Not only was the clock broken, the hands stuck at eight o' five but time really meant nothing to Batou. His body did not decay or age. Time was a useless concept for a cyborg such as Batou.

With a sigh, Batou stood from his chair and made his way into the kitchen. Opening the fridge with his right hand, Batou looked over the contents with his cybernetic eyes and spotted his target.

Batou returned to his chair with the beer in hand. Yet another useless habit. His cybernetic shell filtered out all alcohol, making it impossible for him to drink away his troubles. To tell the truth, beer even reminded Batou of his old friend. He could still remember the last time he'd been out in her boat. The strange conversation they had concerning their cybernetic bodys. The fact that Batou had cared so much for such a cold being stung Batou like a peircing spear, driving through his chest.

The cool feeling of a liquid seeping through his pants pulled Batou from his daze and he cursed as he looked at the smashed can of beer in his left hand and his damp trousers. He still had trouble controlling the artificial limb and the arm tended to act on it's own if Batou did not concentrate.

He tried wiping away the stain as he headed into the kitchen once more. He looked around the kitchen in search of something to clean himself up and sighed as he noticed there was nothing. Batou quickly wrote a note for himself to pick up paper towels on his next outing before heading back into the living room in order to change into some clean pants.

Batou held his left arm with his right as he walked, once again cursing his foolishness. Only a fool would make such a sacrifice for someone who obviously did not return the same feelings. Only a fool would ignore his old friend's cold stares and even colder attitude. Only a fool would allow a sniper to blow off his damn arm in order to save that same old friend!

Batou shouted as he swung his artificial arm and smashed through the living room wall. He breathed heavily as he pulled his limb from the wreckage and cursed the cybernetics that did not bleed. It didn't even scratch. High class technology right there, high class piece of shit for sure.

The large cyborg sighed as he stopped his walking and leaned against the wall next to the new hole. He rubbed his face with his original arm and sighed once more. If it was at all possible, Batou was sure tears would be sliding down his cheeks at this moment.

Where are you? Why did you leave me like this with nothing. No word of where your going, no gratitude or signs of understanding. I cared for you more than anyone and all you did was throw it in the garbage. I gave up my own arm for you and all you did was walk out. For what? For Project 2501?

Batou had slid down and now sat on the floor with his back against the wall, looking at the fake arm attached to his side. She had left him and taken what remained of his humanity with her. Take that and what is left? A shell. A shell of a man who once loved. A shell of a man who once loved someone who could never return the same emotions. Someone who took all his sacrifices and smashed them on the ground like some cheap artifact.

Why, Motoko?

The house was quiet.

Batou pushed himself to his feet and let out another sigh. He forgot the stain on his pants and headed for the kitchen once again for another beer. This time, he would hold it with his right hand.

The house was still quiet, though.

As he returned to the living room, Batou stopped by the fireplace and stared at a small wind-up toy sitting on the mantel. It was in the shape of a basset hound with the name 'Gabriel' written on the plate. Batou reached from the toy and slowly winded up the toy. The soft tunes flowed through the house and Batou returned to his seat, glad to be hearing something.

Maybe he would get a dog...

_fin_


End file.
